


There Isn't Enough Sex in This Fandom

by Dropsofarainbow219



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dropsofarainbow219/pseuds/Dropsofarainbow219
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There isn't enough sex in this fandom. But there is plenty in my head. </p><p>And now in this fic! Come on in, folks. Baz and Simon are bumpin' and grindin' all night long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Isn't Enough Sex in This Fandom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrimsonRoseBlooms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonRoseBlooms/gifts).



> So. Don't get me wrong. I love the snowbaz fandom. It's mad cute.  
> But like. There isn't a whole lot of smuttiness. And, well. Snowbaz are hot.
> 
> So I wrote this! I plan to do a series of various small random sex scenes whenever I feel like it! I could (maybe) pretend this is a high literary piece, discussing weighty topics such as sexuality and intimacy, but it isn't! It's literally just my wank bank! 
> 
> Anyway, this first one is the infamous awkward first time. I love awkward first times. I live for them. I had to write one.  
> Also, is it just me that finds handjobs hotter than full on anal penetration? I get so mad when a fic I'm reading gives me a 5k bdsm full on sex scene complete with anal beads, and then just skips over stuff like handjobs and blowjobs. I'm like, no. Come back. Give me a good succ. I'm a simple woman. ish.
> 
> I've rambled on enough. Here goes. This could be awful. *whispers* or it could be wonderful.

Simon and Baz are sitting on the bed.

Outside, Simon can hear the birds making a fuss. Motorcyclists revving down the streets. The autumn sun is seeping through their curtains and staining the bedsheets bright yellow.

Baz swallows opposite him.

Simon looks up at his boyfriend. His eyes keep rising as if to meet Simon’s, and then dropping back down to his mouth. And chin. And throat. Baz has never been a fidgeter, but he’s grasping his knees very tightly.

“It’s okay.” says Simon. “I mean, we don’t have to.”

“I want to.” says Baz, and manages to meet Simon’s eyes for a brief second. And then drops them immediately. His face seems to be stained red, but it could just be the lighting.

“Okay.” says Simon, and puts his hand on Baz’s knee.

His hand is hot and sweaty compared to Baz’s, whose hand has tensed even more under his. It’s only then that Simon realises he’s nervous. He’s really fucking nervous.

Well, then. Into the abyss, and all that.

Simon resists the urge to clench his eyes shut and instead, inches his hand further up Baz’s leg. Baz’s long, long leg. Baz’s jean-covered leg. He can feel the warmth of Baz’s thigh as he curls his fingers into the skin. Softly. He chances a glance up at Baz’s face, half-expecting a sardonic observation about Simon’s nervousness, or awkwardness, or slowness. But Baz is just holding himself as still as a statue, and his head is turned away. Simon can hear how shallow his breathing is. He moves his hand further, fingertips almost brushing Baz’s groin, and Baz’s hand twitches. He swallows again. His brows are pressing together, a deep line forming between them.

“Baz,” says Simon. Baz closes his eyes briefly, and then tips his head closer. Doesn’t look up.

“Hey,” says Simon, and uses his other hand to brush under Baz’s chin, lifting his face up so Simon can angle in to kiss him. Simon does.

The kiss is wet, and hurried, and in it Simon can feel Baz transferring some of his anxiety into passion, in the way he opens his mouth and licks at Simon’s mouth and sucks on his lips. Simon kisses him, and reaches behind to where Baz’s top drapes over his belt, and dips his hand under the hem. He can feel all of Baz’s pale skin, surprisingly hot, under his fingers. Baz’s lets out this sort of surprised half-gasp into Simon’s mouth, and leans back.

“Simon.” He says. He’s panting, and his eyes are very round.

“Lean back,” says Simon, pushing a bit on his shoulder. “That way – I can –“

Baz lowers himself onto the mattress awkwardly, and Simon scrambles over him, settling his knees at either side of Baz’s thighs.

“Simon,” says Baz again, and his fingers come up to brush Simon’s chest, fluttering over him uncertainly, before falling back down and burying themselves in the bedsheets.

Simon makes a noise of agreement, and sucks at Baz’s neck. Baz gasps properly this time, one hand coming up to wrap itself around the back of Simon’s head, his hips rising off the bed slightly as Simon rolls the tortured skin between his teeth. When he lifts his head a bit, he realises half of Baz’s neck is now shiny and berry red.

Simon sits back on his heels and reaches to take off his shirt. Baz is watching him, his eyes feverish, looking totally debauched. Simon puts his hands on Baz’s hips, too turned on to feel self-conscious. And then pauses, noticing Baz’s inaction.

“Is this alright?” He says, and bites his lip. “Is this…”

“I,” says Baz, and swallows. Simon watches his Adam’s apple bob.

“You can touch me too, if you like.” Simon offers. He’s starting to worry that he’s done something wrong.

Baz jerks his head up and down, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as Simon crawls back over him.

“Here,” says Simon. “I, I can, I mean just – touch me.”

Baz raises a shaky hand over Simon’s stomach, and that’s when Simon realises that maybe Baz is just as nervous as well.

His hand skirts over Simon’s skin, back and forth, and then those long fingers press against him a little more, rubbing his abdomen, his chest. Simon’s eyes flicker closed. It feels so good. It feels so good, and it’s not even really sex.

Baz reaches up to kiss Simon’s jaw, one simple, easy kiss, and Simon opens his eyes to see Baz gazing up at him.

“Simon,” he breathes.

“Tell me what you want,” says Simon, and he’s surprised by how low his voice is. Baz’s lips part, and he stares up at Simon, eyes dark and conflicted and just – _Baz._

“Just,” says Baz, and clears his throat. “Do what you like. I’ll, I’m –“ His forehead scrunches up.

“Okay,” says Simon, and reaches for the hem of Baz’s top. “Yes?” He looks up.

Baz takes a deep breath and raises his arms as Simon helps him out of it. Then he’s just all white skin, naked shoulders, narrow lines. Simon runs a finger over his ribs, his bellybutton, the dusting of coarse dark hair that disappears into his jeans. He can feel Baz watching him. He’s pretty sure that Baz is hard under those jeans. He’s like, 95% sure.

“Can I,” Simon glances up at Baz, and he nods erratically.

“Yes, Simon. Whatever. If you want.”

Simon leans down and closes his mouth over a nipple.

“Ah, god.” says Baz, and his hands come up to rub Simon’s back. “Ok. Yes. Simon. God.”

Simon moves onto the other nipple, feeling it grow harder under his tongue, rolling it gently between his teeth. Baz digs his fingers into Simon’s shoulder blades.

Simon looks up and sees that Baz has his mouth pressed tightly together, one thin line. He catches his eye, and licks at him then. Baz hisses, and his face twists in anguish.

Simon grins at him, and Baz’s eyes warm a little.

Simon reaches for Baz’s belt.

“Oh.” says Baz. He frowns.

Simon stops. “No?”

“No, do it. I mean. Simon.”

Simon smiles again. Smiling makes this easier, he realises. It’s only him and Baz.

And penises.

Simon cringes, and makes a mental note to avoid using that word. Even in his head.

“You know,” he says, conversationally, bringing himself back to what’s at hand (literally). “You’re not half as eloquent in bed.”

Baz glares at him, and Simon immediately feels like he’s back in familiar territory.

“Oh,” He says crossly. “Just take it out, won’t you? You’re making me anxious.”

“Okay,” says Simon cheerfully. “Yours or mine?”

Despite himself, Baz flushes. And it definitely isn’t the lighting this time.

And then, with the resoluteness of a mind made up, Baz reaches for Simon’s hand and fumbles to place it over his belt buckle. Their contrasting hands knock against each other for a couple moments, and then Simon presses the heel of his palm against Baz’s crotch. Baz flushes even harder, and looks away again.

“Baz,” says Simon. He feels calm, all of a sudden. “Look at me.”

Baz – hesistantly – looks at him. Simon presses his hand against him harder. Baz’s mouth falls open, a perfect pink O, his eyes growing wide. Intense. Frantic.

Arousal, Simon is starting to realise, looks a lot like desperation on Baz.

He holds his boyfriend’s gaze as he starts to pull out the length of his belt. Baz has to tug his hips up for Simon to get the belt out, and Simon keeps rubbing him, just enough, through his jeans. He can tell that he’s driving Baz insane. One of his fangs has popped, and his eyes are starting to get that slightly mental glint to them.

Simon loves it.

He’s a little surprised by how much he loves it. How much he loves Baz right now, underneath him, squirming and gasping and glaring at him. He always knew sex was supposed to feel good, yeah, but he didn’t expect the intimacy of this. Of Baz. He didn’t expect to _love_ it.

Simon unzips the jeans and tugs them down Baz’s legs. He thinks he should maybe take them off completely, but he would have to get off Baz to do that. It would be awkward. Besides, Baz doesn’t seem to mind. His chest is rising and falling in quick successions, and the other fang has popped. Simon hovers his hand above Baz’s visible erection through his boxers. (Which are grey) (And Calvin Klein) (Simon didn’t expect Calvin Klein) (He wasn’t prepared).

“Look at me, Baz.” He says, and Baz looks at him. Balls his hands into fists.

Simon rubs his fingers up and down Baz, and Baz lets out this glorious shaky breath. His gaze is latched onto Simon like a lifeline.

Simon can feel the heat of him through the soft material. God, he’s so _hot_. It makes Simon wonder what he feels like without the boxers. It makes Simon throb in his own jeans.

Which he should probably take off. But that would be awkward. Wouldn’t it?

Handjob, Simon decides. He’s going to continue with the handjob for now.

He leans back over Baz, suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss his glorious pink face, the tension around his eyebrows, the sweat on his cheekbones (maybe not those fangs, though). Baz leans up to kiss him, and then seems to realise abruptly that his fangs have popped, and groans. And then groans again when Simon rubs him a bit faster through those damned boxers.

Simon smiles down at him, and Baz blushes deeper.

He leans back, just a bit, so that he can watch what he’s about to do next. And then he takes a deep breath, and pulls down Baz’s boxers.

It’s red, and heavy where it lies now against Baz’s stomach and his unshaved pubes, which curl tightly and black against the whites and pinks of the rest of Baz. Roughly medium – sized, Simon thinks. Really, just a regular old penis.

Urgh. He cringes again. Cock. Just a regular old cock.

But it’s _Baz._ Who is watching Simon with round eyes. Simon reaches down and trails a few fingers into the mess of curls, up over the hot skin.

Baz jerks slightly. Shivers as Simon breathes over him.

“Hey,” says Simon, as he caresses him. He’s curious about the way Baz feels, about the way he fits in his palm and thickens under his touch, but he’s more curious about the expressions Baz makes, about the sounds he might release in a minute. He can feel how warm his own cheeks are, the thrumming of his own heartbeat against his chest and neck.

Baz looks up at him. His eyes are heavy, his mouth ruddy and damp. “Simon,” he murmurs.

“Yes?”

“You…”

Simon wraps his hand around Baz properly and gives him one full stroke.

Baz hums and arches his spine up towards Simon. Simon smiles down at him. Baz blinks, and then smiles back. Just a little. Just the tip of his mouth.

Simon goes again, creating a rhythm, and that mouth stretches open, the skin between Baz’s eyes wrinkling up.

“Hey,” says Simon. “Baz.”

Baz moans a little, and reaches blindly for Simon. His hand ends up resting on his bicep. Gripping it as his fingers slip through the sweat.

“Baz,” says Simon. “Is this good?”

Baz opens his eyes again, and tries to glare at Simon. Half-heartedly. He doesn’t even get close to succeeding. Instead, he ends up biting his lip and whining.

“Baz?”

“Yes,” Baz gasps, and Simon grins. “It’s good. It’s fucking good. You arrogant – ah, – asshole, you know damn well it’s – oh, oh, _oh”_

Simon rubs his thumb against the head of Baz’s cock, stupidly surprised to find the precum leaking there, over his fingers.

“Fuck,” says Baz. “Merlin, just – _Simon.”_ His voices rises as he says Simon’s name, and Simon can feel himself ache even worse in his own damned boxers.

“Baz,” he says. Sweat is starting to drip down his forehead. Baz opens his eyes, stares at Simon.

“I want you to look at me.” says Simon. “I want you to look at me when you come. Okay?”

Baz raises his brows and then gasps, his face contorting as Simon speeds up. Their faces are inches apart.

“Okay?” says Simon.

“Simon,” says Baz, and then – “urgh, Simon, Simon, _Simon_ , Simon – ah, _ah,”_ He breaks off in a strangled moan, gasping and grunting as he spills in hot white ropes off Simon’s fist, his jeans, eyes wide and fixed on Simon as his orgasm overtakes him. Finally, the moaning stops and he slumps back against the bed, his eyes fluttering closed. Simon looks down at his wet hand, feeling slightly surreal.

He collapses then to the side of Baz, wincing a little as his erection presses painfully against the mattress, and studies Baz’s face. His eyes are open, and he stares at the ceiling, looking a little shell-shocked.

“You alright?” Simon ask, and smiles lazily at Baz when he looks over. Baz blinks.

“Yeah,” he says, and swallows. “I mean – I – yeah.”

Simon leans in and kisses his cheek. And the tip of his nose. Baz smiles in that way he does when he’s trying very hard not to.

“So.” He says, after a moment.

“So.” says Simon. The room is lit up golden. Simon attempts not to look like he’s floating away.

“I can…do you?”

Simon blushes, and then smiles. “Alright.” He says. “Um, yes. If you want to.”

Baz reaches for his mouth, kissing him, and one hand brushes over Simon’s hip. It feels like a flame.

“Okay,” says Simon, throatily, and Baz smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Kim, this one is for you. I love you. We both love porn. Need I say more? :*


End file.
